adventures + observations in food + life

Tag Archives: running

Odds and ends
And pots and pans,
Champagne pops
And starts and stops,
Plants and things
And in between,
Tabletops with
Art and feeling.

And art on my brother’s driveway.

Oh, assonance… And consonance… And rhyme… And half-rhyme… Happy new year, and new post, to you too.

Yes, a new year has begun (plus a few weeks now), and I’m happy to be starting it here with words and art, and to be sharing them with you. Words and art, yes, sounds like a good start. That’s one of several thoughts, or odds and ends, that I’ve been collecting. And here are a few more. They follow below, shared as always as a gift for me and you, to peruse and read and at your own pace go through.

1) Pots and Pans: I usually make a few resolutions at the start of each year (any time is good though), and this year was no different. On the afternoon of January 1st, I found myself creating a new note on my phone, a five-minute exercise that left me with some old favorites and general reminders.

Among the highlights was the perennial, “Learn how to juggle five” :), written more actionably and meditatively this time though as, “Juggle five – practice every day for five minutes, relax, and have fun.” (I’ve practiced a few days so far, but not quite yet…every day.) A few general feel-good reminders included, “Be kind every day” and “Be grateful every day.” And then there were some healthy environment ones like, “Do the dishes at least every other day.”

They can really stack up after a while, right??? This was a week’s worth, and actually the first week of the year’s worth. To be fair though, I was sick and wasn’t doing much of anything that week. How about that After picture though?? Yes, thank you very much. (Two weeks later, I’m still kind of working on the ‘at least every other day’ part of this one…but details.)

2) Planting Plant Plans: I have a lot of starter houseplants and a lot of pots waiting for them, so one of my goals over the next few weeks is to bring them together. I have a vision for a garden apartment, with the garden on the inside.

Meanwhile on the outside, I planted some garlic.

Planting garlic and growing and harvesting it is one of the easiest, and most satisfying, garden things you can do. It practically grows itself. It’s like magic – each clove that you plant turns into a full head of garlic.

If you’re interested, and I hope you are :), here’s what to do. First get some garlic bulbs at the farmer’s market (the bulbs at the supermarket might have been treated to prevent sprouting). Then pull the cloves apart, leaving the papery husks on, and plant the cloves right side up about 2″ deep and 8″ apart. Usually, you plant them in late fall, but I’ve planted them as late as December…or also now, well, January 8th according to my notes. We’ll see how it goes! I also planted them in pots for the first time.

The outer five, they got the garlic

It’s okay if the ground freezes after you plant the cloves too. The new plants should come up in the spring if not sooner. Then in April/May/June you snap off the garlic scapes (the green stems that start curling around themselves) to force more energy into the new bulb, and in June/July you harvest (dig up) the new bulbs when the leaves start to brown.

Future houseplants, modeling

3) Freezer Files

The fridge in my apartment came with a freezer (I know, pretty cool, right?), and over the past three years I’ve been doing my best to fill it.

This was the actual view as of two weeks ago. The thing is, this was also essentially the actual view as of five months ago.

I’d filled it over time, and then I got leftover and other-frozen-food usage paralysis. I knew what I wanted to do, which was to go through everything, use it all, and write about it at the same time. It seemed so daunting though, so I never got started. What would the rules be? Would I have to eat only from the freezer until it was all gone? (Meaning no cooking, i.e., not doing something I like?) How long would it take? Would I write a single post at the end about the process, or also one at the beginning? Or should I write several along the way? What if I started and it didn’t go like I thought it would? What if it didn’t work out? What if I messed it up??

Okay, brain, let’s hold the phone for a second there.

What if I just started and saw how it went?

So that’s what I did (and recalled that, yes, that has worked many times in the past (ex. 1, ex. 2)). The beauty and the truth is that of course it’ll work, and that’s what it’s doing now, working out. Now a few weeks in, I’ve eaten or combined into new dishes several freezer items. I’ve also tossed a few items, a temporary affront to my ‘never waste anything’ ideal, but otherwise it’s going great. And it feels great. Item by frozen item, I’m cleaning up the freezer. I’m putting things to use, and I’m simplifying and letting go. Less is more.

Mmmmmmm, no longer frozen and so tasty again eggplant rollatini

Food is meant to be eaten. And you have to start somewhere, so start where you’re at. Get going.

The rules are There are no rules. I’ll use as many things as I can, cook and combine them whenever possible, and take notes along the way, leading to probably a final post but perhaps some interim ones too. I’ll figure it out as I go.

4) Marathon Miles

I signed up for the New Jersey Marathon! Yay!

That decision, made two months ago, was followed by me starting to increase my miles and do some speed workouts. Also yay, except that my doctor had advised against doing the latter workouts so as not to aggravate a minor hip injury. After about three weeks, I realized I should have followed his advice. Boo.

So I bought myself a foam roller (thank you, Princeton Running Company) and have been doing some eggplant side-rollatini-ing. And doing way fewer miles. And going slower. I also starting some physical therapy (diagnosis: gluteus medius strain (yup…weak cheeks)).

The calendar reality is that I don’t think I’ll be doing the marathon now. Maybe I could still do the half, but we’ll see. My freezer file mind is reminding that it’ll all work out, and that once again, as always, I should start where I’m at.

If you can’t run 10 miles, run 3.
If you’re injured, do PT.
If you have an itch in the middle of your leg, scratch your knee.

Okay, that last one was just for the rhymes 🙂

5) March Saneness

This one deserves to go in the opposite direction of alliteration.

There was nothing mad about the Women’s March on Washington this past Saturday. It was solidarity, love, inspiration, and the opposite of hate and madness. I can’t think of a more right place to have been that day than right there with a number of friends, and with everyone else who marched there in Washington and also around the county and the world. We all have our own steps, and for me there was no decision to make but to step out of my own quiet kitchen and start going. The following is what I shared on Facebook that evening:

“We will not go from being a nation of immigrants to a nation of ignorance” – America Ferrera
“Courage will not skip this generation” – Roslyn Brock
“Sometimes we must put our bodies where our beliefs are.” – Gloria Steinem

– Words heard and felt today in Washington, D.C.

6) The Art of Food and Life

How lucky are we, how lucky am I, really.

I have friends I can march with. I can take care of my body, and my mind. I have a freezer full of food. I have plants. I have a kitchen. I have words, and I have art.

There is art on driveways (thank you, artist sister-in-law). And there is art on my kitchen table, a rotating temporary art installation. The current view includes tomatoes from the community garden at work, grapefruit from my mom, and odds and ends from myself and friends.

The view, the backdrop, also includes one of my grandfather’s watercolors, a gift a few years ago from my great aunt. There was a time I thought I would hang it up one day, but I’ve realized I like where it’s at. Along with everything else, it helps make for a full table. And it feels good.

When I woke up that Friday morning, my fourth day in Orlando, I knew I had one main choice to make for the day: whether to go back to Wekiwa Springs State Park and go kayaking for most of the day (as I originally thought I would do – Part 1) or stay in the city and relax.

I wanted to do both, but thinking of all I’d done on Thursday (Part II) and what I most wanted out of Friday, I chose the latter.

The decision was actually easier than I thought, and my feeling that it was the right decision was confirmed during my morning run, an easy 35-minutes around town.

Yes, this is what I want to be doing, I thought as I jogged – taking it easy, not rushing, and letting come what may. What if I didn’t worry and just did that? Yes, let’s go.

About ten minutes into the run, I got to the Orlando Urban Trail, a paved running and biking trail similar to the Cady Way Trail that I’d been on two days earlier.

I couldn’t believe it, but there it was, in Orlando – the Dinky Line!

This was remarkable because in Princeton we have the Dinky too! Technically it’s the Princeton Shuttle, a 2.9-mile NJ Transit commuter rail line that connects Princeton and Princeton Junction (where you can then go north to New York, or south to Trenton and Philly). To anyone who’s local, it’s the Dinky. I promised myself I’d come back later and get a picture (which I did the next day).

With a Dinky-inspired smile, I continued on my run, passing through Lake Eola Park, Thornton Park, and then Mills 50 on my way back to my Airbnb. Along the way, I found myself smiling again when I happened upon another reminder of home.

Yes, in the Mills 50 neighborhood in Orlando, at the intersection of art and utility boxes, there’s an orange Einstein.

It’s good to get away and leave home for a fresh perspective. And it’s also good, when you’re away and relaxed, to be reminded of home. I was running at the pace of Dave, feeling a greater sense of self and doing what I wanted. And then, without trying, I found the Dinky and Einstein. I was away from home, yet I was at home at the same time. What if I brought some of this home back with me?

Part of my run also went down Shine Avenue. Yes, Orlando, full of great signs 🙂

One of my reasons for dedicating the day, Friday, to relaxing and local exploring was that I was doing the Best Damn Race Orlando Half Marathon the next day. I didn’t want to rush when picking up my race packet, and staying local meant I could also take advantage of the kitchen in the Airbnb to cook my favorite pre-long-race meal.

For a while, this pre-race meal (whenever possible) has been homemade tomato sauce and pasta. And that’s what I made. Crushed tomatoes, garlic, onions (the ones that I’d picked the day before at the farm!), olive oil, salt, and pepper. The leftovers were also good the next day after the race, and on the plane ride home on Sunday.

I also sauteed some spinach and cut some carrots, because that’s what I do

After dinner, I wrapped up my Friday by going to an improv show at SAK Comedy Lab in downtown Orlando. I’d heard about SAK from someone at Tasty Tuesdays, and having done improv myself recently with some friends at home and knowing how hard/easy/stressful/freeing/awesome it can be to do – you should try it! if you want to – I was looking forward to seeing a live show.

The show was great, and on top of that there was also the wall-art with the improv of life reminders.

I had initially stopped by SAK in the afternoon to buy a ticket. Seeing no one at front desk, I continued on in and headed up the stairs. While looking at the Improv is Life wisdom-inspiration murals, I ran into the person, Dale, who would be hosting the show that night. He gave me the details on the tickets (can reserve them online) and the art (one of the performers, who is also a visual artist, designed everything).

Sometimes at work in the morning, I’ll write daily intention reminders to myself on a yellow post-it. I didn’t realize it at the time, but taking these pictures at SAK was like doing the same thing, on a larger scale.

I invite you to click, expand, and pan through the murals and see what thoughts and ideas resonate with you. And to see an improv show, and to try it too.

The words in these pictures
And my words and pictures
Are for everyone,
Friends old and new and not yet known.
They’re there for me
And there for you,
Feelings felt and
Feelings shown

For my last day in Orlando, part one was doing the half marathon. When I had originally signed up for it, I thought it would be my weekly long run as part of training for a spring marathon. I never found the right marathon motivation though, so I never signed up for one. This is also to say that had there been any doubt, my goal for the Best Damn Race Orlando Half Marathon was at this point definitely to have it mirror my goal for the trip as a whole – to move myself in the direction I wanted to go in, relax and enjoy it, and welcome the outcome and whatever comes.

I found and welcomed the sunrise on my way to the start.

I also found my lucky numbers, 313.
No better a birthday, or combination of primes, has the world known. I may be biased though.

The route took us through some familiar neighborhoods and streets, including Shine Ave. There might have been delays for the cars that morning, but I wasn’t feeling any because, me, I wasn’t in a rush. I’ll race a race once in a while, but more often lately what I’ve been doing is appreciating the beauty of running at the pace that feels right for the day. I didn’t want to run as hard as possible and injure myself, so I didn’t. And I wanted to run at a more relaxed pace and enjoy it, so I did. It felt great, and I ran a few fun, faster miles towards the end. And I finished and lived to run another day.

Repping PRC in ORD

The wings, they spin

I only had one of these recovery drinks. You saw all the sweat in that picture of me running, right?

A few days later when I looked at the results again, I was like, Wait a second, wow!
My gun time was 1:36:36.9, which meant that If I had kept running and were able to keep the same pace for a full marathon (that is, if I kept training and were then able to keep running the same pace), my final time would be 3:13:13! I’d found my numbers again, and again without trying.

Back to my last day in Orlando, post-half marathon, I had one final decision to make: to DRIP or not to DRIP.

At the bar a few days earlier, I had heard about what sounded like an awesome performing-arts show, DRIP. Imagine dancers moving, choreographed paint and water and sand flying, colored lights moving, a live rock band playing music, everything happening in a dark and intimate warehouse bar setting, and the audience standing and watching on the edges of the performance space and becoming an increasingly painted and wet participant. And picture the audience coming early to get a drink and paint each other and hang out, and then doing more of the same afterwards.

It sounded great, and I thought, “I should go to that. I want to do that.” Adding to the awesomeness was that I only learned about the show because I happened to visit a particular bar (recommended by my hosts) and happen to sit in the one spot at the bar that I could have sat, at the right time, to happen to have a conversation with the woman, Mariko, who happened to be the creator of DRIP!

My plan was to check it out my last night in Orlando. Drip with sweat while running in the morning, and then drip with paint while seeing DRIP in the evening. That afternoon, though, I started dragging. Whether it was the good running-feeling subsiding, the growing thoughts of my pending return to regular life at home, or something else, I started feeling the stress and worry that I had been doing good at managing.

So I took a beat and let myself be.

After getting my Dinky picture, I crossed the street and found a warm spot on the grass near Lake Highland. And then I laid down on my back, resting, breathing, looking up, not looking at anything, now with eyes closed, and I let my thoughts come and go, and along the way came the understanding that I would do whatever felt right and that that would be alright. If a more low-key evening is what was moving me, then that’s what I would do. If DRIP became the stronger part of my compass, I’d move in that direction.

The first sign in favor of DRIP was the beet juice, which I’d gotten in my race goody bag. Beet Performer is 100% beet juice, and well, one sip confirmed for me that it’s not my cup of beet juice tea.

This also explains why I had an open, nearly full can of beet juice in my rental car’s cup-holder, which was fine until I unexpectedly backed into a curb while parking, leading to the beet juice spilling and leaving a large maroon mark on my arm. How about that, I thought, I just painted myself.

Then next came the thrift store, which is what I was parking for. If I went to DRIP, I wanted to get a pair of flip flops, as Mariko had mentioned how most people wear old clothes and sandals that they don’t mind getting paint on. And what would you know: the thrift store had my exact size.

I also got The Muppet Movie (a classic, for my nieces) and some reading for the plane.

The final push to DRIP was a therapy-like conversation I had with a bartender a short while later while eating dinner. The thoughts and talk on my end went something like this: Yes, I want to go, but I have a voice telling me I shouldn’t go because I would be going by myself and would feel like I’d have to talk to new people, and I don’t always feel like doing that, and then I would be self-conscious and not enjoy it, and so on. But I want to go. And, I’d already painted myself and found flip flips! And oh yeah, I met the person who created the show, and this is an opportunity to see it and see something awesome. Tonight. And, I can go and do whatever I want, talk to or not talk to people, and have a good time. I can just go and be.

So that’s what I did.

Once upon a time, I wrote about a Two T-Shirt Day. After entering the DRIP bar area and collecting my t-shirt before the show started, I was treated to a zombie-cutting and sleeves-ripping.

And that, when combined with my half marathon attire and with the rest of my day, perspective seen and perspective shown, turned it into a Two Tank Top Day.

Afterwards, with a few of the performers in front, and with a blond Mariko photo-bomb in back

The show was amazing, and after it was over, I sat with myself for a few minutes in the bar area, continuing to be. Among the thoughts that came were, Yes, I’m okay, I’m doing okay, I’m me, I’m ready, Let’s go home, Let’s go.

When in the course of human events it becomes necessary to loosen the bands of everyday thought and push forward your best progressive parts and perspective, it’s time to take a trip.

So I did.

A month and a week ago, with a minimal amount of planning, I got on a plane and headed to Orlando for five days.

It was an early morning flight, and not being able to sleep, I found myself reading through the Florida guidebook that I’d borrowed from the library but hadn’t really looked at yet. More than half of the pages in the Orlando section were about Disney and the theme parks and how to navigate that world.

“Oh, that’s why people come to Orlando,” was my first coalescing thought, which was soon followed by, “I’m not going to do any of this,” and then, “Maybe I should have done a little research first,” and finally, “No, it’s going to be good. I’m going to do whatever I want and it’s going to be a good trip.”

Carrying with me those concluding thoughts and my one personal item, a mostly full Sierra Club book bag (thank you Frontier Airlines for the low fares, and thank you also for the carry-on bag fees that encouraged my light packing), I made my way through Orlando International Airport and to the rental car shuttle area. Along the way, I stopped to take a few pictures of a three-dimensional Mickey mural and a two-dimensional portrait (above and below), not only so I could joke that I checked off the Orlando Disney requirement before having left the airport, but also because they made for interesting, artful pictures.

After collecting the rental car, my first stop for exploring that day was Thornton Park and Lake Eola, with the general plan being to walk around, get lunch, and take in the new scene before heading to my Airbnb place in the afternoon. Greeting me when I stepped out of the car and looked up was a tree dripping with Spanish moss.

It struck me at the time, and then even more the next day while hiking and also on the days after, that there’s something special about trees and looking up at them, about seeing the shapes and lines that they silhouette against a bright blue backdrop of sky. There’s strength and beauty in the view. It’s solid and magical at the same time.

Walking around further that morning with open eyes, it was easy to find more things of interest and beauty. A short walk away, there was the lake.

Venturing further into downtown, there was the library.

Seeing the library’s name also prompted the following chain of thoughts: Orange County… Florida oranges… Local food… Oranges usually aren’t local… I need to find some local Florida oranges!… I wonder how they taste.

On the other side of the library, which I passed later in my walk, the palm trees provided another good sense-of-place reminder. It was also 75-80 degrees, and I was wearing shorts in March.

Downtown, I also found shadows on a green house.

And back in Thornton Park, I walked past a smoothie place with a sign that made me think, I wonder if every morning they kale-i-brate their signboard in a new way.

At this point, I have another confession to make: prior to this trip, I’d never done Airbnb before. I almost did one time three years ago on a trip in Seattle, but then it worked out I could stay with my cousin. This is simply to say, Orlando was going to be my first time, and as with anything new and with my nature, I had a few (mostly irrational) worries. What if the people were weird? What if I wanted to be myself? What if we didn’t get along? What if it all worked out great and turned out to be a great decision??

The truth is, the messages that my hosts sent me through the Airbnb website leading up to my arrival were all welcoming, friendly, and helpful. And during my stay, my hosts were exactly the same: nothing but welcoming, friendly, and helpful. If anyone’s travelling to Orlando and would like a good Airbnb recommendation, let me know. I have one.

Their house was also only a few miles from downtown and centrally located between 4-5 local neighborhoods. As long-time residents (not much older than me) who loved the city and were plugged into the local food, drink, and activity scene, they also had great recommendations for neighborhoods and places to check out. My general plan for the trip was to explore a new city and the local neighborhoods, see nature at nearby parks, and as much as possible just do whatever I felt like doing and trust, relax, and enjoy my decisions in all those directions. It felt like a good home base.

If I hadn’t stayed there, one thing I wouldn’t have known about was Tasty Tuesdays, a weekly food truck event in the Milk District that became my dinner-destination that first night and that was also a good solo-traveler-who-doesn’t-mind-his-own-company-but-who-would-like-to-be-better-at-meeting-people training ground for talking to people he’s never met before. The food was good – my selections: plantain empanadas, FIlipino noodles, and a huge open-faced vegetarian tamale (a meal in itself) – and the other practice was good as well – my experiences: difficult, easy, and in between, with a later reflection-reminder that what’s there to worry about, really.

Among the things I loved about the next day, Wednesday, was how it turned out to be a double meditation-in-motion day. After waking up with closer to the right amount of sleep, I had toast and went for a run. Running in and of itself helps you relax (it does for me at least), and when you do it on vacation, with your regular worries out of mind (jobs, relationships, friends, obligations, etc.), it’s like an even greater sense of freedom. My plan was to do an out and back on the Cady Way Trail, a paved running and biking trail that wouldn’t you know it was a block away from where I was staying (thank you again host couple for the heads up). I stopped a few times during the run to ask for directions, and one time the exchange went like this:

Me: “Hi, I’m not sure if this is the trail or not. I didn’t see a sign back there at the intersection.”

Friendly, middle-aged woman in fitness clothes (who was walking the other way and stopped to help me): “Yeah I know, the signs can be really confusing. I think the trail might be back there but I’m not sure. I wish I knew, I’m sorry…”

Me: “Oh that’s okay… I was just going to do another 15 minutes and then turn around, to finish up with an hour.”

Friendly woman: “You know, I just walked around this lake right here [gesturing behind her/in front of me]. You could do the lake. Trust me, it’s beautiful.”

After the briefest of pauses, I thought and said aloud at the same time: “How can you say no to that??”

So I did the lake.

And it was beautiful, and it became a part of the day’s running thoughts of remembering to have fun while exploring, asking for help when you need it and engaging with people, trusting yourself, and taking care of yourself.

Part two of my Wednesday took me to Wekiwa Springs State Park, a 7,000-acre park just 30 minutes north of Orlando that has hiking trails, canoe and kayak rentals, and a natural springs swimming area (72 degrees, year-round). On the drive there, the debate in my head was, “Should I go hiking or rent a canoe/kayak?” I wanted to do both, and I knew that doing one would mean I couldn’t do the other. After I got there and got more information on the timing of the rentals, the imperfection of my desires was confirmed. It was either one or the other. In the big picture of life, this bit of adversity wasn’t really an adversity, but it did produce some minutes of fear of missing out and self-criticism for not having planned better. I’m happy to say this thinking was short-lived though, and sooner rather than later, I gave myself permission to continue enjoying being exactly where I was at. It would be a hiking afternoon. And, I could come back two days later, on Friday, to kayak down the Wekiva River, which I learned was one of only two rivers in Florida recognized as a National Wild and Scenic River.

So I went walking.

It wasn’t long after starting down this sandy path that 1) I stopped to ask for directions (I had a map, but the signs weren’t completely clear, and the more opinions the better), 2) the path moved towards a more surer underfoot feel and took a more tropical-feeling turn, and 3) I started feeling within me that friend that goes by the name of peace, ease, and relaxation.

Part of it was the trees above, the path below, and the immersion all around.

Part of it was seeing the Wekiva River, flowing slowly and steadily nearby and looking peaceful. (I imagined how I’d be flowing with it too in a few days, in a kayak.)

And part of it was the singing.

I mentioned once about a year and a half ago that I was taking a guitar class. Since then, I’ve continued to practice a little on my own and also write some songs. There are few family members and friends that have heard a few of them, and I’m hoping to stretch and share more in the future. Over time as they’ve become a small collection, I’ve also realized some common themes in them, such as love, hope, process, and progress. And so, the songs I was singing were my songs, and their familiar stories were ones that I’d heard and relaxed with many times.

On the road and I’m a
Coming home and I’m a
Thinking how I’m gonna
Rock and roll again and
When the stars turn in and
Wake the sun again I’m
Gonna see the light in
Your eyes

That’s the first part of one of the songs I was singing, as I was walking down this road.

I didn’t see too many other people walking that day, and I had this stretch of openness all to myself. The reason for this, at this point on the road, might have been that a little ways back at a junction, there was a plastic A-frame barricade blocking the way, which I decided to walk around.

I had a feeling I knew why the the barricade was there, as half an hour earlier I had come across the following sign in the trail, which I had honored by turning left and going down a different path.

The new path lead me to the road, which led me to the junction. And not seeing a similar sign on the barricade or any visual signs of a fire beyond, I continued on. I was curious to see what would come next. I also knew I was only planning to walk for another 20 minutes or so before turning around, as going further would have meant doing a longer loop than I wanted.

This of course led to the following: me walking along in mid-song, and then a golf cart coming down the road towards me, driven by a guy dressed in full firefighter gear.

He stopped, and even as I started explaining how I came to be where I was at, I could tell it was okay. He said, “Yeah, you can keep walking. You’ll see where the fire was and smell some smoke… Just don’t walk through the burned area, and however far you go, make sure to always keep it on your right.” He also asked if I had enough water and if I knew how to get back, and he noted that I could also take the closed trail by the river back since it wasn’t part of the burned area.

So I continued on.

And soon enough, I was at the edge of the burn. If I had a small amount of curiosity within me to walk further, it was well-tempered by the charcoal understory and the remnant heat and smoke. This is how the path looked, looking into the burn.

There was also the trail marker.

Sometimes you don’t a need a written sign to tell you the trail is closed.

On the flip-side, turning myself 180 degrees around, while standing in the same spot, the path had a greener look.

Having satisfied my fire curiosity and feeling the natural springs calling for a post-hike swim, I took this greener path (aka the closed trail by the river) and headed back. Not surprisingly, I didn’t see anyone on this short stretch of trail, and soon I found myself back at the spot where earlier I had turned because of the sign.

How a “Hiking Trail Closed” sign looks when approaching from the other side

So I went under the ribbon, turned and followed the same path towards the road, and found a new, final path that led me back to the start.

Driving back to the springs from the trailhead, I also stopped when I saw this sign on the side of the road. It was another reminder of how fire and burning help contribute to the beauty of nature, and to restoration.

As far the swimming went, I will say the following: moving around in 72 degree water, at 4:00 p.m. on an 80 degree day, after two and a half hours of walking, was amazing. I went in for half an hour, and it was like a getting a one-minute cold wake-up call followed by a 29-minute water massage, refreshing and relaxing.

It was also while hiking and swimming that day, and later while getting a drink at a local bar back in Orlando that night, that I came up with my general plans for the next day, Thursday. But more on that soon, in Part II.

Those who know me, and in particular those who have seen my closet, know that I have a fair amount of t-shirts.

I can’t remember the last time I bought a t-shirt, but I sure do have a lot of them. On this one shelf (not all pictured) there are 81. I counted. After tidying them up for the picture.

They have a variety of origins – gifts, giveaways, events, races, and the occasional (way back when) purchase – but mostly they’re from races. Run a race? You get a shirt! You get a shirt? Add it to the shelf! And then you kind of rotate through them, with some getting more attention than others, owing to factors like a good design, a better fit, and that it’s easier to grab the ones near the top.

This past Sunday was a two t-shirt day, as in, I got two new shirts to add to the collection. The reason was that I did a 5K, which naturally came with getting a t-shirt, and then after the race they gave me another t-shirt as part of the award…for winning the race!

I usually don’t make a big deal about accomplishments, and part of me, as I’m writing this, wonders if I’ll actually post this when I’m done, but what the hell :). I haven’t written a race recap in a while, and I felt good and had a good time doing it, as in I was enjoying it while I was running. So here we go!

First as a disclaimer, I would say that yes, my current running fitness is pretty good, but it’s also not at the level that would typically win a race. Usually even in a smaller race like this one, there’s a handful of people who will go faster than the 19+ minutes I did. I also didn’t enter it because I had visions of winning. I entered because my brother was doing it and it would be another opportunity go see him and his family. Running it could also confirm where I was at running-wise; in the past month or two, I feel like I’ve been getting back into it, enjoying it more again and feeling like I want to keep building it up.

All things considered, my finishing position at the end was a highlight, since it’s a pretty rare thing for me end up there, but what else stood out? Mostly it was the process, which is to also say the story, the guts of it.

While warming up and then standing at the start, my mindset this time was actually better than it usually is. I was pretty successful at staying relaxed and not worrying about it. I don’t do too many races, but often there’ll be a time right before the start that involves some focused worries about ‘not doing well’ or ‘not running good enough’ (‘what if I can’t do it?’, ‘what if I don’t go fast enough,’), which are typical and understandable thoughts but also ones I could a little more without. Butterflies are good, but to a point.

A minute or two after the start, the field settled, and the following became clear: there were only two people in front of me, they were at most five seconds in front of me, and we were going about the same pace. My basic, non-winning and relaxing-but-still-pushing-it-a-little plan going into the race was simply to stay calm and collected and go slightly faster than would feel comfortable. And there I was, doing that, and near the front. Which then produced a minute or two of the old worry…what if I keep this up? what if I pass them and take the lead? what if I can’t do it after that???

And then I was like, Whatever, I’m just going to keep doing my thing. We passed the first mile mark at just over six minutes, with me still a few seconds behind and feeling good, and then the guy in second slowed his pace just slightly. I had a brief moment where I thought, I could just hang back, not take a chance, and run with this guy, and then the moment passed, and I passed him. And then I was up behind the guy in front, who now also was slowing. The thought repeated itself, but this time in more of a split-second format, and I passed him. It was about seven or eight minutes in, and I never looked back.

I kept going at my pace and my original plan, and it flew by. I noticed that being in front also seems to get you more cheers, but not considerably more than say, two years ago, when I last did the race and did it at a more modest pace, while pushing my niece in the Bob. I led in the stroller division that day and remember getting a equal amount of “Go Dad!” cheers from the people watching and “Go faster Uncle D! You’re not going fast enough!” statements from the four-year old getting the free ride.

My brother pushed his other, younger daughter in the Bob this time, and a highlight of the race this year came a little over two miles in, as the route made a left turn past the corner where my sister-in-law and my now six-year old niece were standing.

This is one of those recipes where the name is 100% descriptive of the final product. And how about that final product.

Sweet, chocolatey, easy, and yes, there is matzoh there, but now it’s sweet, chocolately matzoh. Eating a piece for the first time is like discovering Cocoa Krispies after having eaten plain Rice Krispies your entire life.

I was the last of my relatives to sign up for which Passover dessert to bring to the second seder on Saturday, which meant that twelve others had already selected their category by the time I got the website. Waiting for me when I got there was the following: “Kosher for Passover, non-dairy cake, cookies or something else.”

I figured I’d figure it out Saturday morning, which is what I did in terms of the recipe and the production, but the actual idea came on Thursday during our weekly group run. I mentioned my pending Passover dessert duty, and the girl I was running with said something like, “Chocolate covered matzoh is really good and easy,” to which I said, “That sounds great! I’m going to do that. How do you make it?” to which she said, “You just melt some butter and sugar, brush it on the matzoh and bake it for a few minutes, and then add the chocolate,” to which I said, “Oh, that’s going to be good, I’m going to win the desserts!” Then I assured her that it wasn’t a contest but rather just a lot of people bringing something, and that it was the first time it was a little more organized. I also noted that to my knowledge, no one had ever made chocolate covered matzoh before, which meant that my contribution would have the potential of being not only good, but new.

I was feeling good about the pending baking experiment, and on Friday while I was hanging out with my brother and his girlfriend, we got to talking about the desserts we were going to make. Up for them was the following: homemade macaroons dipped in chocolate, and with chocolate drizzled on top (it’s a good thing I don’t have a picture of these because you might like them more than my chocolate matzoh 🙂 ). It came out during the conversation that my brother hadn’t signed up for a dessert slot, which in no way deterred the macaroon-making that followed, and that I had glossed over a small detail about my dessert category, which in a large way would have left me embarrassed had I not realized it in time. Kosher for Passover, non-dairy cake, cookies or something else. “Ahhhhh, yes, so maybe it’s a good idea if I don’t use butter when making the chocolate covered matzoh,” I said to myself and out loud. “Or milk chocolate.” The result: a delicious vegan dessert.

Vegan Chocolate Covered Matzoh

Ingredients

1/2 cup vegetable oil

1/2 Tbsp sugar

8-10 matzohs

15 oz semi-sweet chocolate chips

Steps

Mix the oil and sugar

Brush and coat the top side of each matzoh with the oil and sugar mixture (I used a spoon for this step)

Arrange the matzohs in single layer in your baking dishes

Bake for 15 minutes at 375 degrees (or was it 400 degrees? I’m missing this detail in my notes. What is important is taking the matzoh out before the edges start turning black. The rest of the matzoh will have a golden look.)

Now take the baking dishes out of the oven, and add a handful of chocolate chips to each matzoh (about 1.5 oz per piece). Once the chocolate chips have melted (this may take about 5 minutes or more), spread the now-melted chocolate chips over the matzoh to cover the entire top side (I used the back of a spoon to do the spreading).

And then put the matzohs in the fridge for about 15-20 minutes (for the chocolate to cool and harden)

When I made these this past Saturday, I also played around with a few different oil and sugar ratios. The first one was 1/2 cup oil with 1/4 cup sugar, which turned out to be a lot of sugar (and sweeter!):

I also tried 1/2 cup oil with 1/4 cup brown sugar, which likewise turned out to be a lot of sugar. On the matzohs where I used these mixtures, you could see extra grains of sugar sitting on top of the matzohs after the 15-20 minutes of baking.

How everything looked after adding the chocolate chips to the baked matzoh

And a close up: chips melting, sugar showing

I also tried the following with the oil and sugar, in a second batch that I made:

Using and brushing on the same oil and sugar mixture as above, but scraping away the excess sugar before baking

Brushing some of the matzohs with plain oil and then sprinkling a small amount of sugar on top, and then baking

The results for these sugar-lighter pieces seemed as good as the results for the ones I had made earlier with more sugar, so I went with the sugar-lighter version for the recipe above. The 1/2 Tbsp of sugar is a good estimate for what I’d sprinkled on (if you do the math, that’s 3/16 tsp sugar per piece of matzoh..want more or less sugar? Go for it! The semi-sweet chocolate chips also already have sugar in them). In the recipe, the first two steps are, ‘Mix the oil and sugar, and then brush this mixture on,” but as noted here, another option is you could also brush the oil on first and then do a sugar sprinkle.

In the end, assuming that everyone who had signed up for a dessert brought a dessert, plus my brother and his girlfriend, we had 14 desserts altogether to choose from. If you figure that each dessert had about 15 servings and that about 30 people came altogether, that’s a whopping 7 dessert servings per person! There’s always room for dessert, though, from the fresh fruit to the sponge cakes to the apple kugel to the macaroons and to the chocolate covered matzoh and all the rest.

One day, I’ll probably give the butter version of Chocolate Covered Matzoh a try. Maybe I’ll also try adding salt, cinnamon, or various nuts, as I saw in some recipes, or adding something simple like orange zest. A fresh hint of orange to go with the chocolate? I have a feeling that would be even more chocolate-covered-matzoh-y good.

What made it special was not that I did it,
but how I did it and what it meant.

Starting at the end, a look at the finisher’s medal

Starting at the beginning, the sunrise around 6:00 a.m., an hour before the start

You could say the journey to my marathon experience Saturday started long ago and includes the entirety of my life, and I would agree with you. Some of the more recent seeds of my goals and plan for the race, though, start with where I was at when I signed up for it earlier in the year. I’d done another marathon last spring, and having not gone quite as fast in that one as I’d hoped for (though that was okay (another story for another time)), I had the thought, I should do it again and go for that Boston qualifying time. If I was honest with myself, though, I knew there was some ambivalence. Did I really want to train that much? Should I really push my body in that way for that long (running for 26.2 miles)? What if I can’t do it? What if I fail?

***

“So how many people here are racing the marathon tomorrow?”

This was one of the first things Coach GP said during the Friday afternoon marathon-expo talk he gave, titled, “Pushing Beyond Presumed Limits,’ which was ostensibly about running mechanics and how to think and what to do when trouble comes during the race. He continued:

“Note that I didn’t say, How many people are running the marathon tomorrow. It’s a race. You all have a bib number. There’s a clock timing you. No matter what you tell yourself to take the pressure off, once you get started you’re in the game and competing. You’re an assassin…You have a goal time and you’re going for it.”

I immediately felt like I was in the wrong place. What I was hearing is what had historically been my mindset, but I’d already been thinking of a different plan for this race. I knew my training hadn’t been as good as last year and that I wouldn’t be able to get the aspired-for Boston qualifying time. I’d also been missing some sleep and ruminating on life recently following the ending of a short but impactful bit of dating, and I really just wanted to go for a run and enjoy it – to say, I’m just going for a long fun run. And to not feel like I needed to push for x or y time – to not have that as my focus – and also to not have my legs feel terrible afterwards.

My marathon bag around 6:25 a.m., posing just prior to gear check. One more pit-stop, and then ready to go.

***

The race started on time at 7:00 a.m., and it wasn’t long before the old mindset, still there just a little below the surface, worked its way up. Earlier, I’d told myself that a 7:30/mile pace (3:16:38 overall) would be a good target given my fitness and one that I could maybe glide along and enjoy things at. But the course was going to be flat! And now the 3:15 pace guy was right in front of me and planning to lead people to a 3:14:30 finish…which was halfway further to 3:13…which, who knows, maybe I could do if I felt great…and, shouldn’t I give it a shot to hit 3:13 if it was maybe possible?…and, 3:13!…which would be a great time and PR (even if not the 3:10 needed for Boston) and a great palindrome!

My legs were feeling good for a while, and I was keeping up with the 3:15 group, but I knew I wasn’t relaxed. My thinking and focus were just, I need to stay with this group. It wasn’t until going through Meadowbrook Park, between mile 8 and 9, that my mind returned to me. This isn’t what I want, I told myself. And I won’t be able to keep this up anyway. Chasing a time is not my race today. My race is to enjoy it, to make it to the end still smiling and happy to be alive. To appreciate it.

At the turn at Mile 11. Thank you Aaron and Jami and Mom for watching and cheering.

So I slowed down a little. And I started to relax. And began to really smile. I was running by myself now (amidst the others around me), and now finally running for myself.

It was a shift in mentality and remarkable because it wasn’t just about running, but life too. In a culture of feeling the need to please other people and meet their expectations and fit in, sometimes you have to stop and ask yourself, What do you want and need for you? And then be true to yourself and do that, rather than doing what you think others think you need or should want.

I was listening to myself, and in that sweet spot of comfortableness and just running, came things like joy, gratitude, and connection. As I started the backstretch and moved through miles 13-20, I was smiling.

A few times I looked up with open arms and thought, I love my life.

The University of Illinois Alma Mater sculpture (1929), the Alma Mater (center) welcoming the world along with Labor (left) and Learning (right)

One of my grandfather’s paintings (1930). Its story isn’t known (still to be tracked down), but I like to see the gesture as one of welcoming life and whatever comes.

People, families, and volunteers watching the race were cheering and encouraging me and everyone on, and when I would meet their cheers with a smile or other acknowledgment, they would go further and give me a little more. Which then made me appreciate them and smile even more myself.

It’s true you get back what you put in and that we’re all connected. If you want love, part of it is you have to be open and willing to give some yourself.

Looking good, right after getting a bottle of Gatorade from my brother at mile 18. Thank you also Jami for getting that on digital film.

The final 10K went by for me with a mindset similar to the one I carried from 13 to 20. I could feel myself moving a tad slower, and around mile 23 or 34, I did have the thought, ‘It really doesn’t have to be this long,’ but really I was still feeling pretty good, smiling, and appreciating the spectator love. Keeping up with the water, Gatorade, and some GU helped too. Further on the topic of spectator love and encouragement, and creativity, the following were my top 3 favorite signs that people made, each of them also only appearing during the last 10K:

Keep going! You’re almost there!!!
[then followed by a second sign saying:]
That’s what she said!

And

Give 100% in everything you do!
[then followed by a second sign saying:]
Except when donating blood!

And

Stop being tired,
and start being awesome!

In the end, my final time was a few minutes faster than my first marathon and a few minutes slower than the one last year, but it wasn’t about the time as much as being right where I wanted to be. I continued to push beyond the presumed limits of my older ways of thinking and seeing, and I felt genuine appreciation and gratitude for the day. I appreciated seeing my family at miles 4, 11, 18, and 26.2, feeling and engaging the support of the crowd and volunteers, and even Coach GP for getting me thinking and providing some words and ideas for me to remake and claim for myself. All in all it was a great run.

A view at the finish. If you look closely, you can see me.

The finisher’s medal, further proof of the above

And the medal zoomed in, back again with the Alma Mater and Labor and Learning